


the kind of forever they talk about in stories

by perennials



Series: a matter of infinite hope [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, Future Fic, KRTSK Fluff Week 2018, M/M, stuff i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 06:09:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17054627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perennials/pseuds/perennials
Summary: God, Tetsurou's too young to be feeling like this.





	the kind of forever they talk about in stories

**Author's Note:**

> DAY 2
> 
> i think the prompt was cats and dinosaurs

“I will not deny that I like dinosaurs. I do like dinosaurs, and stuffed animals, and _in theory_ would enjoy the idea of a stuffed dinosaur toy.” Kei crosses his arms and leans against the doorway, unblinking.

 

“But a _giant fucking dinosaur plush.”_

 

Tetsurou winces visibly, his arms still wrapped around the bright turquoise abomination sucking up all the light (and life) in the hallway. He forces his head through an opening between the wall and the squishy-soft material, shooting Kei the most innocent, apologetic look he can conjure. It doesn’t work out very well; you can’t be innocent and apologetic at the same time, because one implies sin and the other, well, a thorough lack of it. Which Tetsurou does not have the luxury to be pondering right now, not with Kei three seconds away from kicking both him and his new friend out of their apartment. Tetsurou is currently experiencing a severe shortage of luxuries.

 

He tries again, anyway.

 

“I thought you might like him, since, y’know, _dinosaurs_ and all, plus the store was having a clearance sale, so he was only _three thousand yen,_ and, like—“

 

Kei cuts him off smoothly. “Lucifer is going to destroy it.”

 

“Oh,” Tetsurou says.

 

He thinks about it.

 

_“Oh.”_

 

That’s right. _Lucifer._

 

::

 

Before Lucifer was a household terror, he had been a stray. As a result, his past remains shrouded in mystery, the matter of _what made Lucifer Like That_ one that will never be solved.

 

Before Lucifer succeeded in dismembering the entire set of floral pillows on the living room sofa and driving Kei to the brink of insanity (“Feathers, Tetsurou, fucking feathers _everywhere.”),_ he had been a stray. Tetsurou picked him up one day, ducking out of the cold night air with a spotty ball of fur cradled in his arms. Kei put up protests, all of them reasonable, but eventually gave in.

 

More and more so these days, Kei gives in.

 

Tetsurou wonders if the years spent stealing the blankets off Tetsurou’s back and sipping at miso soup in the morning have finally had an effect on him. They moved in together in the spring of Kei’s fourth year of university, when the future was still gimmicky and uncertain, like a shiny toy from a gacha machine. The Kei back then would have said no to more than half the items populating their small apartment right now. The Kei back then would have slept facing the wall.

 

But anyway, it had been Christmas Eve the day Lucifer sidled up to Tetsurou’s side for the first time, purring deceptively, so that’s when they hold his birthday celebrations each year. Every party goes like this: Tetsurou opens the treat container. Lucifer gets his claws on something. It dies.

 

Actually, every day goes like that. For reasons unbeknownst to man, despite being what Google informed him to be a _tuxedo cat,_ Lucifer himself seems to be full of ire towards the world at large.

 

If he can disfigure it, he will disfigure it. If he can’t disfigure it, he will knock it over. If he can’t knock it over, he will come mewling up to you and demand to be comforted for his efforts.

 

A tough cat, this stray child. _Their_ stray child, Tetsurou supposes.

 

Thus, the gargantuan stuffed dinosaur _does_ pose a problem, mainly that it will become Lucifer fodder if they do not find an appropriate way to deal with it. For the time being, they quarantine him outside of the bedroom, and Tetsurou is permitted to bring the plush inside. If only because it will not pose a threat to the pillows.

 

“Give it away,” Kei suggests from the other side of their bedroom, examining his nails by the warm glow of the bedside lamp. The distance between them presently can be explained by the massive dinosaur-shaped intrusion lying in the middle of the mattress. The nails are a Kei thing. He likes to keep them short and neat, and files them religiously.

 

“Absolutely not,” Tetsurou shoots back, mortified. He hugs the bulky head of the Intrusion closer to his chest, pointedly ignoring the way Kei raises an eyebrow at him.

 

“Then throw it away.”

 

Tetsurou places a hand over his heart theatrically. “You wound me, Kei.”

 

Kei lies down on the covers on his stomach, closing the space between them by digging his elbows into the horrifically long neck of the Intrusion. Tetsurou watches him from where he’s sitting cross-legged, his back against the headboard.

 

Kei tilts his chin up, looking Tetsurou in the eye. “Me or the cat. Pick your poison.”

 

“You are a cruel man, Tsukishima Kei.” Tetsurou smiles weakly.

 

Kei pushes himself off the mattress, kisses the corner of his mouth.

 

“And you are an idiot. So we’re even.”

 

::

 

On Thursday evening, Tetsurou makes a fascinating discovery.

 

The discovery is as follows: stuffed animals are full of stuffing material. Also, stuffing material is a pain in the ass to clean up, almost as much so as feathers.

 

Also, Kei is fully capable of denying him goodnight kisses when sufficiently pissed off.

 

Kei is very pissed off.

 

::

 

“I am fond of him.” Tetsurou stirs his coffee morosely, the tiny silver spoon clinking all bell-like against his teacup. He means the dinosaur.

 

Akaashi rests his chin in the palm of his hand delicately. He looks as out of place as always in the little coffee shop near their stock-image skyscraper of an office building, with his perfectly done eyebrows and his ocean-colored irises, the sleek lines of his suit.

 

“Well, Tsukishima is not,” he observes. “Are you fond of _him?”_

 

“I’m _in love with him.”_ Tetsurou sips at his coffee with profound emotion.

 

Akaashi smiles. “Good.”

 

“Good?”

 

“All’s well that ends well,” Akaashi says cryptically. He cuts a small cube out of his cake, separating it from the rest with a careful scrape of his fork. “Have you apologized yet?”

 

“Of course!”

 

“Then you will be fine.”

 

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Tetsurou says darkly, and watches as faint, teacup-sized storm clouds begin to appear in his coffee. It’s going to rain later on today, and hard.

 

::

 

It does, in fact, rain. Tetsurou barely makes it back home before it starts pouring in earnest, but manages to avoid getting completely soaked in exchange for his efforts. Said efforts being: running across several roads with his briefcase held over his head like a character in a comedy strip, silently yelling _fuck you_ at the sky the whole time. Not completely soaked meaning he’s still wet, but not to the point where he feels the need to strip immediately and lock himself in the shower cubicle. He’s just a little damp.

 

So he toes out of his shoes and steps inside, drops his keys in the empty cookie tin strung up by the front door, completely prepared for the freshly-plowed snowstorm of Tsukishima Kei—

 

And finds him asleep on the carpet in front of the living room sofa, half-lying and half-holding on to a certain, obnoxiously turquoise dinosaur plush.

 

His socks are still on; his glasses are askew. His hair is all mussed up, small curls of moonlight framing the pale canvas of his face. Lucifer is curled up in the crook of his arm, his nose nuzzled into the thick fabric of Kei’s gray sweater. They look comfortable, both of them. They look at home.

 

And God, Tetsurou’s too young to be feeling like this, but something inside of his chest gives at the sight.

 

Maybe Kei’s not the only one who’s been done in by all the miso soup-mornings and the nights spent stealing blankets off each other’s backs. Tetsurou pictures Kei’s half of the closet, the color-coded sweatshirts, the faded sticky-note on the kitchen cabinet door warning of the occasional pilgrimaging lizard. The paper menagerie of high school photographs blu-tacked to the walls in the hallway. Tetsurou thinks about the Christmas Eve when Lucifer first came home, how Kei had flicked him in the forehead for _not thinking ahead again_ but thrown a pair of towels at his face immediately afterwards, the flat of his palm warm against Tetsurou’s cheek. _Fine, we can keep him, whatever._

 

_Fine, since it’s you._

 

Tetsurou kneels down, as close as he can get without waking them, and takes a photo.

 

::

 

[8:23 p.m.] To: Akaashi

 

_[photo attachment]_

cohabitation is the answer

 

 

::

 

 

There's a new fixture in the living room, one that's uncharacteristically loud and eye-catching, but otherwise it's the same old story. Same old brand of coffee, same old bed sheets, same old cookie tin for holding keys by the front door, next to the framed photo of a high school training camp.

 

Otherwise, it's the same old love story.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/nikiforcvs)
> 
> today i got three (3) tooth fillings and then one (1) lobe piercing so idk how i'm writing at this point but i suspect i will never want to read this again in the morning. nevertheless these two have brought me a great deal of motivation-to-not-die this year so it's the least i can do, writin all this funny shit for em  
> thank you for reading, dear reader! as always, all kudos, comments, and bookmarks are appreciated from the bottom of my wrinkly old man heart
> 
> have a good one


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